Paper China
by LittleSnowPea
Summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane gets more that he bargained for when he forms an impromptu alliance with the Joker. NOW NEW AND COMPLETE!
1. What's Up, Doc?

**A/N:** This is the first chapter, new and revamped! whut? :p

**Warnings:** still apply. slash. angst. yesh. no owns.

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Jonathan Crane was running for dear life. His mask was hot, itchy and soaked through to his face, allowing him to smell the stink that was the rain of Gotham. Not that he was particularly focused on the smell of the city. He was mostly trying to get away from Fabulous Flying Rodent of Gotham, who was _trying_ to catch him. Trying being the operative word.

Jonathan had just escaped from Arkham (with a little help from Scarecrow), fighting guards and police officers to get free from that hellhole and Batboy here though he could bring him down? Jon had endless determination on his side and Batman had what, Batarangs and a cape? Right.

Two seconds later, Jonathan was hit by one of the said Batarangs and fell on him face in the mud of the field they were running across. Lovely. Just lovely. Has he mentioned how LOVELY this situation was? He gave a frustrated shout as Batman drew near and his heart pounded.

One thing was for certain: He wasn't going back to Arkham. Not a chance in _hell_ he was going back _there._

"Then get a backbone," the ghostly voice of Scarecrow interjected in the back of his mind, slowly taking over. "Or move over and let me drive!"

With a flash Scarecrow had Jonathan onto his feet, and was turning to face the Batman, who was leaping toward him. Scarecrow raised his wrist and sprayed a dose of fear toxin directly at the rodents' face.

"So long for a while, sucker," Scarecrow muttered and retreated, leaving Jonathan to run as fast as he possible could toward the abandoned fairgrounds in the distance.

Jonathan panted as he urged his protesting feet onward, tearing off his mask as he entered the carnival.

"Where oh where won't Batman look?" he sang breathlessly. His gaze lingered on the falling-apart haunted house before immediately rejecting it as too conspicuous. A grin alighted on his face for the first time in months as he spotted the perfect place to stay, where Batman wouldn't dream of looking. It wasn't exactly the epitome of Jonathan after all. He chanced a glance behind him and grinned as he saw nobody.

With his smirk still in place he ran to the funhouse.

He yanked the door open, wincing as his overenthusiasm caused a hinge to break loose, but ignored it, wedging himself through the gap when it became apparent that the door would not open more. With a sigh of relief (and a furtive glance behind him, he can't help his paranoia) he made his way deeper into the funhouse, trying his best to ignore the faded dcorations that betrayed just how old (and unsafe) this building was. He clentched his mask in his hand as he eyed the door at the end of the hall that could barely be qualified as such. It was hanging on by the barest of hinges, and he cautiously pushed it open, biting his lip at the loud creak it elicted from the worn out thing.

He peered into the room, heart pounding again. Movement in the far shadows caught his eye, and Scarecrow instantly returned as he raised his wrist.

"Who's there?" he demanded in a sure, strong voice. A soft laugh answered him.

"It's the doctor!" the clown's voice sounded exhausted and strained, but full of his usual glee anyway. "What's up, doc?"


	2. Scared?

**Disclaimer:** Do not own these. Nope, I do not!! They belong to... whoever it is that they belong to. But it's not me.

**Warnings: **SLASH. YAY!! Don't like, don't read. Flames will be used to toast marshmellows and make s'mores. Also, rape and torture in later chapters so... yeah.

**A/N:** I realized that I spelled Jonathan wrong on the first chapter, so... sorry about that. And I'm also sorry it took SO LONG to update. I had a lot of stuff to take care of and bruising my ankle bone didn't help... :(

It's short, I know, but the next chapter will be longer AND IN JOKER'S POV!!

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Jonathan straightened up to his full height and narrowed his eyes at the shadows where he estimated the Joker to be. Because that's whose voice was drifting from the darkness, ruining his one chance at peace. The Joker. The foolish, insane clown Jonathan wanted nothing to do with.

"What do you want?' he questioned-no, demanded- in his best I'm-head-psychologist-at-Arkham voice. A sinister chuckle reverberated from the shadows just beyond the minute strip of moonlight that illuminated the weathered floor.

"What do _I_ want?' Joker giggled through his question, and stepped just barely into the moonlight, so that half his face was obscured in the nighttime darkness. "If I remember correctly, you barged into _my_ territory."

Jonathan swallowed uncomfortably.

"Yes, I suppose I am," his voice a pitch higher that it normally was. "I'm staying until R- Batman is gone, though."

Joker laughed again, the chuckles creepy, making the hairs on Jonathans' arms stand up. His green eyes glittered with malice.

"Feeling brave, pretty boy?" Joker giggled. Jonathans' throat was suddenly parched. "Wassamatter, scared?"

"No," Scarecrow said defiantly, popping up out of nowhere. Joker appeared put off for a moment, then his scarred lips split into his usual grin once more.

"Oh, good, " he said, limping his way over to the pile of mismatched blankets in the corner. "No reason to be _scared_ of me!!"

Jonathan and Scarecrow bristled simultaneously at the Joker's casual use of _their_ word, then Jonathan pushed Scarecrow away, wanting to deal with Joker on his own.

Joker noticed Jonathans' tensing and began to laugh. His laughs abrubtly turned to hacking, gruesome coughs midway through and Jokers' thin shoulders hunched over.

Joker emerged from this fit of sorts with blood on his lips and his make-uped chin, but apparently neither noticed nor cared. His lips twitched back into their trademark grin as he observed Jonathan shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

"So," Joker said, unable to stand the silence for long. "Why is the _Batman_-" he spoke the name with a kind of obscene emphasis-" after you, my befuddled doctor?"

Jonathan sniffed in annoyance.

"I broke out of Arkham two days ago and made the mistake of crossing his path," he explained, though why he was taking the time to do so with this clown who didn't care either way was beyond him.

"Hmmm," Joker said, cracking his neck. Jonathan was not amused.

"Stop that," he snapped, annoyed, but before Joker could respond, footsteps resounded from the first floor of the funhouse. Joker staggered to his feet, excitement written all over his features. Jonathan was the complete opposite, readying himself to put up the fight of his life if Batman burst through that warped door.


	3. Joker and His Potato Peeler

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the plot. If I did, I'd be rich.

**Shoutout!** To Jen for saving my life. Literally. This chapter is for you!!

**A/N:** Yeah, I know, I promised this a long time ago. And I promised it would be longer. But school and crap have caught up with me along with countless family dramas _and_ I lost my notebook so I had to type this part by memory _and_ my computer was being retarded and wouldn't open the document. But it is in Joker's POV and next one will be longer. So here it is!! READ AND REVIEW!! OR YOUR COMPUTER WILL DIE!! points threateningly DO IT FOR YOUR COMPY'S SAKE!!

**Warnings:** Yummy slash of the Scarecrow/Joker variety. Don't like, jump off a cliff. Also, this one contains some mild strong language and it has been rated T for your consideration. And I don't know how well Joker in IC so... deal. And an additional warning: **Thanks to a certain cribber: IF YOU STEAL MY IDEAS, YOU WILL DIE.**

**A/N 2:** I just watched Breakfast on Pluto and Oh. My. God. As resident Goddess of Movies, I command you to go rent it. :) You will enjoy it unless you are a homophobe. And Tran-phobe. Yeah. Go watch it. Cillian Murphy in drag. :))

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** Joker's POV**

Joker could hardly contain himself. A giggle swelled up and caught in his throat as he fingered his potato peeler lovingly with his purple-gloved fingers and eyed the door that the Batman was just outside of. It was all he could do not to burst out in hysterical peals of laughter (like he was known to do) when he thought about this _bizarre_ situation. Strange, chaotic madness would ensue soon, he could taste it, and he hopped from good foot to bad, relishing at the shot of pain that answered his movement.

"Batsy, Batsy, Batsy! Come out to play!!" he sang to himself, lunacy clouding his thinking. "I want a _fight_ already Batsy!! Come and get me!"

Crane glared at him.

"_Willyoushutupalreadyyou'regoingtogetuscaught!!"_ he hissed all in one breath.

Joker giggled.

"Batsy!" he sang inside his head this time, to appease the already too-serious Crane. "Come on!!"

Crane stepped quietly back into the shadows. Joker rolled his eyes and stepped dead center, trembling with excitement and the strain on his probably-broken ankle. He couldn't wait for Batsy to come find him. He couldn't wait to extract sweet revenge on Bats for injuring him and making him stay hidden in this stupid, closed in attic and rendering him incapable of blowing anything up and listening to people scream. What had Joker done to deserve this punishment?

"Nothing!" Joker snarled in rage, gripping the potato peeler in his fist and twitching with anger and anticipation.

Wisely, Crane didn't even try to make him shut up. It must've been something in Joker's attitude.

Soon Joker would make pain cross the Bats face, so cleverly hidden under his cowl and mask. Soon, he would get revenge. And maybe some pain in return, which would only make Joker happier.

Batman rammed into the door, making the whole room shake, the door barely holding up under the pounding. Crane jumped in fright, and Joker forced the hysterics down at the image. Crane, "The Master of Fear" was frightened of a man dressed in Kevlar and a cape. It was just too funny and Joker wished he could laugh at it, but it hurt to laugh which brought him back to the fact that he wished he could blow something up too, but he couldn't and it was _all Batman's fault!! _

Joker was going to _pound_ Batman into fucking _oblivion_ for cooping him up here, and for that matter, cooping him up at Arkham all those times as well!!

"C'mon, Batsy!!" he muttered, running his purple-gloved thumb along the peeler, feeling the sharp, biting edge of it drag along the fabric, barely a centimeter from cutting his skin.

Batman tried one last time to break down the door, but luck must've been favoring Crane, because it held and Batman gave up, trekking back down the stairs.

Disappointment in his belly, Joker listened to the Bats's cape open and take him into the air, away from Joker and his potato peeler.

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Sorry so short. Sogni D'Oro, everyone! First person to translate gets a cyber cookie. Review!!


	4. And Here We Go!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned these, I wouldn't be broke. I borrowed the setting from _Punch and Judy._ You know the drill. If it's you, let me know.

**A/N: **This...is... NOLANVERSE!! Ok, I'll stop. It is, though. And I know some characters and events I mention happened in the comics, but I figure that this is a _fanfiction, _so I can do what I want. And It's long(er)!!

**Dedications:** Dedicated to Jen, for saving my life, and Vanessa, for bugging me to update. :)

**Warnings:** Slash. Don't like? Stop existing. Flames will be used to make a warm fire. Also, explicit mentions of rape/torture in later chapters.

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** Joker's POV**

Goddamn that Batman! Damn him for flying away like that! Now Joker would have to postpone his revenge. Joker pouted, slouching down onto his mattress in the corner of the attic, watching Crane's face alight with the joy of one whose birthday had come early. Annoyed with the whole scenario, Jonathan licked his lips, eyeing Crane's wrists, where his fear toxin dispensers were.

Deep down, _very_ deep down, Joker did have a rational-thinking ability. But he lost it a long time ago, when he got those scars. Now, it flared up again like you might expect an annoying fungus to, and it was telling him something about resting and nursing his wounds.

Joker ignored it, finding it rather annoying and far too serious for his admittedly insane tastes.

"So," Crane began, obviously trying to fill the awkward void of silence until he was certain Batman had left. "What happened to you?"

Joker regarded his injuries. A probably broken ankle, some broken ribs, a massive headache that accompanied a nice solid concussion, and enough bruises to cover a map of the world.

"Batman," he said as though it explained everything. "He didn't see the humor in holding up a busload of annoying snotrags. He never gets the joke." He glared at Crane, daring him to agree with Batman.

Crane raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing. Joker smirked and took the opportunity to look Crane over as if he were a particularly large prize.

Crane didn't look too good. In fact, you could say he looked terrible, even by Joker's messed-up standards. He was even skinnier than usual, which is a mean feat, and he was paler than the Joker under his makeup. His knuckles were prominent as he gripped the mask dangling uselessly at his side, and every muscle in his body was tense and rigid.

"Let's make ourselves a deal," Joker said as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He gave up on any hope of a fight with Batsy and crossed his arms, looking up at Crane expectantly.

Crane's eyebrows traveled further up his forehead.

"What kind of deal?" he asked suspiciously. Joker giggled at his expression, then snapped back to "let's-make-a-deal" mode.

"An agreement, an alliance if you will," Joker said, his stomach bubbling with excitement, and rocking back and forth, unable to remain still. "We'd-ah- watch each other's backs, help out with-" Joker licked his lips with a loud smack- "schemes. Now, I'm not usually one for planned-out-" smack-" schemes but sometimes –ah- I do use them and then I'd need some-" his green gaze landed on Crane's wrists once more- "help."

Crane was stoic as he listened to Joker's little speech, punctuated by gasps of pain and the annoying smack of his lips.

"Help in the form of my toxin," Crane stated dryly. Joker giggled.

"Oh good, you catch on fast," he said.

"No."

Joker froze. Did Crane say no to him? He did, didn't he!! Nobody said no to Joker!

"What?" Joker demanded.

"I said no," Crane said simply. "My toxin is not at your disposal, and my body can't help but remember our last 'alliance'."

Joker furrowed his brow, trying to keep his giggles down as he remembered the chair.

"Oh, don't be like that, sweetie! I have no strength to lift a –a chair, wasn't it?"

Crane gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Yes," he muttered. "A chair."

Joker couldn't help himself any longer and let out a loud cackle, falling off the mattress and onto the floor in the grips of mirth.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Joker said, wiping his eyes and looking up at Crane. "You did spray your pet toxin at me."

"It had no effect!" Crane exploded, sending Joker into peals of laughter again.

"Thought that counts!" Joker wheezed out in between giggles and coughs. Crane's lips twitched in annoyance as Joker fixed his insane green gaze on Crane, upside-down from the floor.

"Well, Doc?" he asked with a smirk. "Gonna join up with this clown or not?" Joker chose to ignore the previous refusal.

Crane's nose twitched.

"I suppose," he said finally, and Joker leapt up, ignoring his injuries and erupted into mad cheers.

"Hooray!!" he cried, clapping his purple gloved hands above his head and shaking them in mock triumph.

"Thanks, Scarecrow," Joker said sincerely, bowing. "Dorothy would be proud!"

** Jonathan's POV**

Had all that time in Arkham cost Jonathan his MIND?? Agreeing to any alliance to anybody, let alone the volatile, _insane_ Joker?? He must've gone off the deep end.

He resisted the urge to strangle his new-ally.

"Don't refer to me as 'Dorothy's friend'," he requested in a strained voice.

He might have saved his breath for all the effect it had on the clown.

Jonathan realized that this agreement was the biggest mistake of his life, and Joker only confirmed this as his lips widened into a huge, painted smile.

And then the floor exploded.

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**A/N: **laughs evilly Review and I'll tell you what happened...

Should I post this on my livejournal?

PS: I LOVE FANART!! :)


	5. Babying Jonnie

**Authors Note:** I know you all probably were expecting to get a death announcement from me. All I can say is I am damn sorry. I was in the hospital for the past few months. Couldn't do anything, except watch Batman Begins. And The Dark Knight. And Raw. And Smackdown. And scream like a fangirl when Jeff became #1 contender. And laugh when Matt said I Quit. And.... well you get the picture. Anyways, I'm sorry.

And I don't know if I've mentioned this ever but English= not my first language and Paper China= not beta'd so mistakes= my fault entirely.

**Warnings:** As usual, slash. As even more usual, die if you hate it. And later, very graphic details of rape and torture, lots of angst and a dysfunctional relationship. Yay. And language, blah, blah,blah

**Shoutout:** To my baby, Sarah, I love you and I hope we never, ever, fight like that again.

**and now, enjoy!**

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**Jonathan's POV**

"Hooolllllyy shiiittt!!!" Jonathan screamed, flailing as he…… didn't fall? Instead, he opened his eyes to the slightly amused looking clown hovering above him.

"Hey, Dorothy's friend, you alright there?" Joker questioned, raising his eyebrows and clearly trying very hard not to laugh. "'Cause it, well, it _looks_ like you thought you were falling into a bottomless pit of darkness. And you _sound_ like you're high. But I don't know. I'm not the doctor here, Doc." With these words, he launched once more into his strange combination of coughs, wheezes, and giggles, seemingly uncaring of Jonathon's lack of response.

Jonathan laid on the not demolished floor, thinking hard. He never remembered reading that hallucinations were part of having HIV, but he couldn't recollect anything at all even remotely doctorish at the moment. His head ached and the last place he wanted to be was here, where he was.

But at least it wasn't Arkham.

He sighed, still ignoring the clown, whose laughter had subsided and who was watching him closely with minimum amusement, and tried to stand.

A purple gloved hand placed on his chest stopped him.

"I don't think standing is the best option, Scarecrow," joker said, shaking his head in the classic no-no sign. Jonathan gaped at him- it almost sounded as if the maniac was concerned with Jon's well-being- then got defensive. He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He did just fine on his own! Angrily silencing the inner voice that suggested otherwise in the form of Arkham memories, he bristled in Joker's direction.

"It's Jonathan right now," he informed the unabashed man coldly. "And I am _fine_, thank you very much."

"No, you are _not_," Joker grinned, once again pushing the doctor down. "I don't want you flipping out on me again, so therefore you are staying _down._"

Jon was too exhausted to argue with the lunatic any longer, and with an annoyed huff, allowed Joker to push him into a sitting position against the wall. With an approving nod, Joker sat back, observing his alliance partner in that creepily quiet way of his.

"What?" Jonathan snapped finally, having had enough of the silent stare.

"Nothing," Joker replied, a grin creeping across his face. "Just wanted to see what an insane doctor looked like after spazzing out."

Jonathan stared at him, disbelieving. Why had he let himself get roped into staying with this idiot?

And why in _God's holy fucking name_ was he finding it harder to dislike staying here??

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**A/n 2: **reviews=love=more chapters, so go ahead and hit the button. Yes that one. Go ahead. I'll love you forever.


	6. What He Remembers The Most

**A/N**: Hello. My name is LittleSnowPea, and I am a hypocrite. (crowd: hello, LSP.)

I realize that I haven't updated in 10 months. I also realize that I have started and completed other stories while neglecting this one. I realize I have most likely made a lot of people angry.

For all of that, I apologize. I would like to reiterate, to all my readers, that Paper China is my firstborn baby and I will always love her. Despite new children entering my family, and despite the fact that I have married several other fandoms, Paper China is still my precious.

Again, I am so sorry for abandoning my baby for ten months. I will be a better mother from here on out and update frequently. You do not have to believe me, but I hope you find it in your hearts to at least forgive me and read on.

**Warnings: **Jonathan describes, in graphic, violent detail the first time he'd been hurt at Arkham.

This is still slash.

And now I have developed a sort of Sherlock Holmes type of writing.  


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It had been two months. Two whole months since the Fabulous Flying Rodent had tried unsuccessfully to root out Jonathan in the funhouse, and so far, Jonathan hadn't been injured, murdered, robbed, or otherwise accosted while he remained in this crazy alliance with the Joker.

Actually, it was _Jack_- Jonathan had forced him to reveal at least the first name he'd been given at birth. (Or, when he'd been hatched, as Jon secretly thought. No woman could've given birth to someone like the Joker.)

Jonathan wouldn't let himself sleep longer than a few hours into the night, for both the fact that the Joker was fitfully resting across the room and the fact that if he tried to sleep any longer than that, memories that he'd tried to force deep back into the recesses of his brain that he could not actively use would resurface in the form of terrifying, nauseating flashback-dreams.

At first, he limited his sleep because he didn't trust Jack-turned-Joker- but, when Joker had discovered his early risings, he'd snapped at Jon to shut up and return to bed, as his footsteps woke Joker up. At least, that was the reason Joker had given, but Jonathan wasn't a psychiatrist for nothing, and he could infer from the Joker's body language that it _bothered _the Joker that Jonathan wasn't sleeping properly.

_Unbelievable,_ Jon had thought when he'd figured that little tidbit out. _He couldn't care less about his own health but he snaps at the slightest hint of some irregularity in mine, he snaps._

(Forgive poor Jonathan, he doesn't know what it's like to have someone place you on a pedestal so much higher than their own.)

But now, since Joker watched him with a careful eye, Jonathan forced himself to sleep longer, and while his body enjoyed the much -needed rest, it came at a high mental price. Night after night he awoke, thrashing around, panicked, as the tendrils of a horrifying dream-memory invaded his thoughts, even when he awoke. He'd call it a night terror on anyone else, but he couldn't diagnose himself for that, not when he knew so clearly what was causing these dreams.

_Memories_, he corrected himself. Cool air stirred his hair and he closed his eyes, momentarily enjoying the refreshing feeling against his face before sighing and opening his eyes again. The twinkling lights of Gotham seemed to mock him- they were free to shine, unrestrained, while he was stuck in the attic of an abandoned funhouse, while HIV and nightmares ravaged him and he couldn't venture very far into the city thanks to the huge search on for him.

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Without consulting him, his brain drew up the images from the nightmare he'd just had.

"No…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes furiously, trying to halt the memories, but they continued nonetheless.

_He drifts in and out of consciousness, not really sure where he is. The carpet feels rough under his back. It's uncomfortable and an overload to his feeble senses, but he hasn't got the strength to move._

_He fuzzily wonders where his Arkham striped uniform has gone, but his head pounds and he can't hold on to that thought for very long- or any thought for that matter. He squints, trying to see his surroundings in the dim room- _and office_, his sluggish mind informs him finally, as he makes out the desk next to him and what has to be some chairs across the room. He gives his head a shake, briefly restoring clarity to his confused mind. _

_Lifting his head slightly, he looks around again, brow furrowing as he sees a door, closed, a few feet in front of him, and two windows on either side with their blinds drawn. _

_Where is he?_

_He tries to sit up, but nausea overcomes him and he groans, fighting his upchuck reflex. A quiet laugh from the corner surprises him, and he jumps, instantly regretting it when his head begins to pound._

"_Good, you're awake," the voice was mocking, and Jon recognizes it, but he cannot attach a name, not with his brain moving like sludge. "You've been out for a while, I was afraid I'd given you too much. I couldn't exactly have a doctor do it- they would not understand the punishment you need to receive."_

_Jonathan is confused, but he has little time to wonder. A sort of haze has settled over his mind and his senses are extremely dull and he feels lifeless. He feels it when Lyle Bolton- because now he knows who it is, he has heard of his infamous 'punishments', he just never expected to be on the receiving end of one- grabs him painfully by the arm and hauls him up, shoving him against the desk. _

_The hard edge of the desk is a sharp contrast to the dullness of his brain, and he cries out half-heartedly. The medicine he was given seems to be taking effect again, and he can't seem to muster any energy. _

_The desk is rough- that feeling sticks out in his mind, like the texture of the carpet and the edge of the desk had. _

(He remembered especially the feel of it against his cheek and the loud crash and Bolton pushed something off the surface of it)

_He weakly pushes back against the much larger man, his thin frame a disadvantage yet again in his life. Bolton just sneers and flips his over, the impact of the desk in Jon's diaphragm knocking the air from his lungs. Jon stills momentarily, seeing stars, and Bolton grunts above him._

_Jonathan shuts his eyes and weakly goes limp, unable to struggle any more. He tries to give in, to succumb to the call of the chloroform, but fate- cruel, cruel fate- had something else in mind for him, because other than the textures of the carpet and desk, this is what he remembers most._

_He feels like he's been split apart. If Bolton uses lube, it has no effect. Jonathan screams in agony, but Bolton shoves a rough piece of cloth into his mouth and continues. Every thrust feels laced with fire, and Jonathan- unafraid, bad-boy Jonathan- is sobbing like a baby and begging for Bolton to stop._

_Bolton merely laughs._

It's that laugh that wakes Jonathan night after night, thrashing and sweating, a plea dying on his lips.

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**A/N** Hopefully you enjoyed- as much as you could. I fear I didn't do very well in his memories, but that was only the first one. Poor Jonathan endured many, many more. Will update soon, this time I promise.

Please review.

LSP


	7. Fireflies

**A/N:** Here is the next chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but the writing, so please don't sue or steal.

**Warnings: **Bad words, slash MAN KISSING.

read on, and review.

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The cold breeze is what brought Jonathan back from being sucked into his memories again. He gasped for air, staggering back a bit with the very real force that flashback had on him. Tears pricked his eyes, blurring the mocking image of the lights in the distance, looking like so many fireflies that were free in all the ways he was not.

_Look at you._

Jonathan jumped as the voice from his nightmares spoke again, disembodied and echoy in what Jonathan knew was his mind, though it still frightened him. He removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes furiously, as if removing all traces of would make that horrid voice go away and give him some peace tonight.

Hell, he'd rather have Scarecrow take over without permission again- at lease _he_ could handle all of this shit with the expertise and finesse that Jonathan wished he had in himself. Scarecrow could handle it without crying a single tear (_probably nightmare-less too_, Jonathan thought bitterly), and especially without being afraid, which was the worst part, according to Jonathan. Considering that he was supposed to be the "Master of Fear", and that was a _little_ hard to do when he awoke night after night, sobbing.

The deep, cruel laugh made him jump again, and look around fearfully.

_You're pathetic_.

Jon had to agree. Pathetic aptly described him- he laughed too- to think that he still considered himself brave and proud. After all, how could you be a master of fear itself when the _memories_ of your dreams had you gasping for air and scrambling for dry land as if you were drowning? What kind of master needs to rely on their _alter –ego_ to get through something?

Jonathan hated himself.

_You're a filthy animal. I'm sure that you __like__ this, fag._

At least Jonathan was smart enough to know that that was a lie- although even that was doubtful. Some part of him had to enjoy what he'd gotten, otherwise he wouldn't continue dreaming about it and obsessing over it, right?

A long-buried part of Jonathan's brain screamed foul at that last thought- the part of him that had actually gone to medical school and had been a psychologist, it yelled all sorts of things about trauma and not-your-fault and Jonathan _wanted_ to believe it, he really did, but that horrible, taunting voice of Bolton made it _so hard_ and-

_Listen to your pathetic crying_.

Jonathan buried his head in his palms, running his fingers through his brown hair, trying to calm the thought that had culminated into hysteria. He shakily released the breath he'd been holding, trying to shove everything he'd been thinking about in a tightly-sealed box in the farthest recesses of his mind.

"I know you come out here every night," the silky-smooth voice made Jonathan spin around quickly, startled, to face his ally. "But could you possibly shut the balcony door behind you? You let in the chill."

Jonathan stiffened.

"I'll be sure to do that next time," he said coldly, turning away again.

Joker didn't move. As much as Jon tried to ignore him, Joker's relentless staring unnerved him. Finally, Jonathan shot him a glare.

"Yes?" he demanded, shivering a little thanks to a combination of the cold air outside and something that he, even with all his years in psychology, couldn't name.

Joker shrugged aimlessly, green eyes glinting with the light of the faraway fireflies.

"You look like death warmed up," he explained, if you could call that an explanation.

Jonathan snorted.

"Thanks," he snapped back, giving his ally a once over.

His dress shirt was untucked and wrinkled, and his gloved hands were stuck in his pockets of those ridiculous purple pants, though Joker just said Jon needed a sense of color. His green curls were in disarray and his makeup was obscenely smudged, but he didn't seem to mind- indeed, he seemed to relish his overall messiness. His emerald eyes sparkled with some emotion that Jonathan was both too tired and too hesitant to place. As Jon watched him, a small smirk grew over his lips, different than his usual I'm-insane-and-that-makes-the-world-so-much-better one. This one was reserved and more… human somehow.

Cursing his attentiveness, Jonathan turned his back to the clown and glared half-heartedly out across the trashed yard of the funhouse, mind a whirl with too many things for Jon to keep track of.

A firm grab of his arm caused his heart to stutter a bit, though not nearly as much as when he realized the reason he couldn't see the fireflies of Gotham anymore was because there are _lips_ on his and oh, his _god_, why isn't he running and fighting for his life-

He relaxed, probably because a few seconds into that wonderful, perfect _kiss_, his brain shut down completely, therefore effectively silencing his runaway thoughts. His lungs throbbed, needing air, but there would be hell to pay before he voluntarily pulled away, because the kiss was magical, sparking warmth in places Jonathan didn't even know were cold.

By the time Joker- _Jack_- gently distangled himself from Jon, they were both gasping and Jon's lips were swollen and flushed. He could feel the blood pounding in them, in time with his racing heartbeat. He cautiously raised his gaze to meet the swirling emotion-filled (for once- it was bizarre to see them that way) eyes that somehow were above him. Jon didn't know how Jack had grown so much taller than him, since last time he checked, they were about the same height, but his brain didn't want to think anymore.

"You're going to tell me everything."

Jack's voice was at least the same, though distinctly lacking any malice, and before he'd even thought about it, Jon was nodding. Jack cracked his trademark smile.

"Good."

And then those scarred (but not at all unpleasant) lips were on his again and Jon forgot everything else.

Faraway, the Gotham fireflies twinkled.

* * *

I hope I did that kiss justice. I worked on it a long time.

review.

:)


	8. In Jack's Green Eyes

**A/N: **Sorry for the absence. I have no excuse other than laziness and a bad breakup. Either way, please review!

**Warnings:** uh, angst? mentions of HIV? Mentions of sex? read on to find out. :) and no stealing, as usual.

And I am taking requests! So... yeah. My pairings are on my profile. :)

Wow. I must have been more tired than I thought I was. I accidentally uploaded Saving Matt chapter 8 instead of Paper China. Sorry about that and thank you to Joker'sOnlyFear for giving me a cyber-slap up the head. :)

* * *

Jonathan seemed to have left his brain on the porch, because it seemed like fucking _years_ until it managed to reconnect with him and drag him mentally kicking and screaming out of the haze Jack had put him in. He dimly realized he was shirtless, the shirt he slept in ad gone missing somewhere between the porch and the corner where Jack slept, and that his belt seemed to be unbuckling itself, but none of that mattered, because he just needed to get Jack to STOP and tell him that he had no idea what he was getting himself in to.

However, his brain wouldn't cooperate and his mouth refused to form words for him, so trying to tell Jack was a little difficult. This was at least as frustrating as being hit with his own toxin. Jonathan struggled back, trying to distangle his long limbs from where they had somehow become entwined in Jack's, ignoring the huff of indignation that he received from the green haired man. He scrambled away, unable to meet Jack's eyes to see what emotion might be swirling there, his mind a whirl.

"What?" Jack spat and Jonathan flinched a bit at the tone in his voice before reminding himself that this was the _only way_- this was how it had to be. It was better for everyone.

When Jonathan didn't answer, Jack reached over and seized Jon's wrist painfully, seemingly disregarding the yelp of pain it had elicted from the so-called Master of Fear.

"Answer me," Jack demanded, and if Jon wasn't so preoccupied with thinking about a way out of this, he would have surely noticed the bizarre note of concern in the other man's voice, clearly out of place.

"I can't talk about it," Jonathan said through clenched teeth. It was a lie.

"Well then, why are you acting like a virgin?- You're- ah-_ not_ a virgin, are you?" Jack added as an afterthought.

Jonathan's face burned and he glared at the clown indignantly.

"I'm pleased you think so highly of me," he hissed sarcastically, but Jack merely raised and eyebrow, unfazed, and shrugged nonchalantly.

"You're either a virgin or have been raped," he said easily, and Jonathan felt a cold tremor run though him at the spot-on guess.

"What?" Jack asked, noticing Jon's reaction. "It's true- those are the only two reasons you would theoretically not be willing, unless you were straight, which it's pretty obvious you aren't."

Jon had to agree, though his brain seemed stuck on the fact that Jack had so easily guessed.

Jack gave an impatient huff and snapped his fingers in front of Jonathan's face.

"Hello? Earth to Jonny-boy. Hello?"

Jonathan smacked his hand away.

"Stop that," he ordered without any real authority in his voice, which was probably why Jack laughed humorlessly.

"Are you gonna answer me or not?" he demanded and Jonathan sighed, finding no way around it.

"I don't want to," he tried stubbornly, but he might as well have saved his breath for all the effect it had on Jack.

"I don't care," he snapped back. "So you can forget that."

Jonathan huffed in frustration.

"Fine," he snapped finally, mentally slapping himself but continuing nonetheless, heart heavy.

_It's best to do it like a band-aid_, he thought dismally, surveying Jack's waiting face. _That way, it'll all be over quick._

"Wecan'thavesexbecauseIhaveHIV," he blurted out, all in one breath. He probably should have gone slower, he reflected, but it didn't matter, because Jack obviously had heard and comprehended, if the rapidly changing emotions in his eyes were any indication.

_Oh…….god,_ Jonathan thought frantically, unsure what Jack's reaction might be and debating the merits of running away _right now._

"How?"

The question startled Jonathan, and he scrambled for an answer, coming up empty.

"Uhhhh, pardon?" he stammered, trying to buy time. Jack scoffed.

"Don't be daft, answer the question," he snapped, though malice was distinctly lacking in his voice, Jon noticed.

He saw no other way out of it.

"Bolton," he sighed, by way of explanation. Jack raised his eyebrow.

"You had sex with Lyle Bolton," he stated disbelievingly. Jonathan's face colored again.

"I did not," he denied heatedly, and understanding flashed in Jack's green eyes.

"Oh," he said, and then- "oh……."

Jonathan closed his eyes and waited for what would happen next.

* * *

Again- sorry, and please review! :)


	9. Taking the Cake and Touching Joker

Chapter 9

**A/N**: Oh, wowz….. this is getting far beyond what I'd expected to do….. You lot better be happy….. Anyway, yeah, review.

**Warnings: **angst, Joker's POV, homicidal thoughts, this is still slash and has been since Ch. 7, if you don't review I will skewer you with a fork. The usual. And if you wrote Punch and Judy, come forth and I shall credit you for the setting.

Read on! Have I mentioned review?

* * *

**Joker**

Joker wasn't quite sure what to think, exactly. Sure, he'd seen a lot of- _ahem-_ interesting things in his life, but this pretty much took the cake.

_Cake sounds really good right now._

Shut up. Concentrate.

If what the dear doctor- _Jonathan_, his brain informed him irritably, to which he gave an indifferent '_whatever'_- said was true, which it probably was, judging by the horribly trapped look on the other man's face, then Joker had a lot of thinking to do.

He narrowed his eyes, sweeping his gaze over the lanky man. Usually he loved seeing the uncomfortable look on the man's face, and the trapped look was what he received from most of his victims, but somehow, he wanted it erased form Jonathan's pretty face. Huffing in irritation, he reached out and jerked the doc's face up to meet his, annoyed that he couldn't see either the blue eyes that entranced him or the swollen lips he was proud to have touched.

Will you focus?!?!?!?

Joker tutted in irritation before studying the emotions that swam in Jonathan's eyes.

_Ooooh, they look like the sky!_

Shut. Up.

Joker cocked his head, his tongue darting out of it's own accord to wet his lips, trying to decipher the things darting around his brain before giving up and pushing Jonathan down.

The thinner man looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, a look Joker did _not_ approve of. The fright, he meant. The big eyes were actually hot.

Come _on_, Joker.

Joker rolled his eyes at Jonathan's confusion.

"Go to sleep," he said with an air of impatience about him. Jonathan, probably out of surprise that Jack-_no it's Joker the only person who hasn't died for using Jack is Jonathan, somehow it hadn't sounded bad spilling from his lips-_ wasn't killing or otherwise maiming him, closed his eyes and in a few moments Joker saw the stress lines fade away as exhaustion propelled him to sleep.

Joker stared down for a few more moments, oddly transfixed by the man, before shaking himself out of that, _ah,_ stupor and standing to pace.

He wasn't quite sure why he cared so much about what the hell had gone on during Jonathans time as a patient of Arkham Asylum, but then again, he wasn't quite sure of anything lately. Joker fidgeted with his gloves fitfully before tearing them off and throwing them across the room, surprising even himself with the outburst.

Tsk, you're acting like a child.

_(Hysterical laughter in his head)_

_You don't even know what's going on,_ Joker taunted himself, laughter bubbling just below the surface of his chest. He shrugged before casting a glance back at Jonathan, eyes narrowing in thought.

He was still sleeping peacefully.

With a huff of _oh, fine _to the scolder in his head, he shrugged off his coat and dropped it to the ground carelessly before crawling into his array of rags where Jonathan was asleep. He lay on his back, arm tossed across his forehead, eyes shooting daggers at the rotten ceiling, racing mind coming up with no answer other than

_Oooh, chocolate sounds good._

_Better find a new story for the scars, eh?_

_Speaking of the scars, who lately do I want to kill?_

A warm weight on his side made him jump, looking down at Jonathan and groaning. Jonathan had curled up next to him in his sleep.

_It's actually kind of cute._

Nobody touches Joker!!

Joker looked from Jonathan to the ceiling to Jonathan again, and sighed in a sort of -ah- insane resignation.

_Insane. Hehehehee._

So he let Jonathan sleep curled up next to him, though he didn't usually allow it, and a grin curled his lips as he plotted ways to kill his latest target- after all, life was getting a little dull without some murder in it, and Joker refrained from bursting into hysterical laughter, his eyes darkening at the thought of what he would do to Lyle Bolton.

* * *

Oh! Before you _review_, I'd like to mention that I just saw Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs. Hands up if you think the main character-inventor-dude looks like Jonathan Crane. *puts hand in air* OK, now review. It's that button right there. :)


	10. Over

**A/N:** Hello. This little section was written on a plane home, with my first Pepsi in forever awaiting my drinking, and chocolate in my pocket while _Harvey Two-Face_ was playing on my iPod. (the epitome of perfection). Sorry this is a bit late. Enjoy and review nonetheless. And I am sorry, really. I have no excuse other than sloth for putting this up so late. please please review? I'll try to do better, promise. joker and jon abandoned me for a while there.

also, no ownie.

**Warnings: **if you haven't figured out by now that this is slash, then you seriously need some glasses. (make them cute. ) slash (as usual) violence, kidnapping. good stuff. also, I may have barely researched PTSD, so I may have stretched the effects and facts.

REVIEW!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Jonathan**

When Jonathan awoke the next day, his mouth felt dry and his head pounded. He raised his head slightly and squinted against the bright sunlight that inched it's way across the rotting floor and shined directly into his eyes, blinding him more than he already was.

He dimly realized that a heavy body was lying half on top of him and dropped his head back to the foul-smelling pillow with a barely-suppressed groan as his head throbbed again.

Flashes of the previous night (and oh god what _had_ he done) flashed through his mind and his eyes flew open again, panic momentarily gripping his heart.

_Shit._

Had he seriously spilled his innermost secrets like a goddamn girl to the _Joker _of all the people in the entire world? He really had lost it. He knew that lapses in judgment were common in patients that had experienced a traumatic event and/or suffered from PTSD, but he refused to diagnose PTSD upon himself, namely because he refused to let the damn _event_ have that much of an impact on him.

_How well is that working out for you?_

Oh please shut the fuck up. Thank you.

He sighed in frustration, taking a few deep breaths trying to analyze the situation. So he'd told Jack/Joker. Maybe that was better, maybe Jack/Joker would have some sort of an aneurysm and forget, or just didn't care.

(Jonathan would be more inclined to believe that if they hadn't been making out for who knows how long before Jonathan decided to spill his guts all over. Super attractive. Great job. Idiot.)

Anyway, Jack/Joker wasn't letting the little confession bother him too much like normal people would. Jonathan's training told him most people would keep distance between them and the violent crime victim, but then again, Jack/Joker was anything _but_ most people or normal, so none of Jonathan's education would help in analyzing _him._

As if he wanted the inevitable headache that would be analyzing Jack/Joker.

Jonathan sighed again, frustration and his own whirling mind making him irrationally worried. He turned his head and glanced furtively at the sleeping Jack/Joker and chewed his lip, eyes flittering down the much more muscled form of his ally. His eyes narrowed as he just barely noticed the sleek black handle of a pistol tucked in the waistband of his ridiculous purple pants.

Does he seriously sleep with a loaded gun pointed at his dick?

"The safety is on," Jack/Joker explained, sleep making his voice even gruffer than usual. Jonathan arched his eyebrow, not making eye contact with the clown.

"ESP doesn't exist," he answered, as if that was an answer, and Jack/Joker laughed, sending chills down Jonathan's spine.

"I never said it did," he whispered into Jonathan's ear, grabbing the other man's slim wrist painfully. "I was merely commenting on the status of the pistol in my pants."

Jonathan winced at the double entendre and Jack/Joker laughed again.

"You really aren't funny," he lied through his teeth. Jack/Joker smirked.

"I'm sure," he whispered silkily and Jonathan shuddered again, for an entirely different reason.

Jack/Joker smirked and abruptly rolled over, getting to his feet and towering over Jonathan. Jon scowled and got up too, unappreciative of Jack/Joker's attempts to be intimidating.

"So," Jack/Joker said, all- business. "I have questions and you have answers."

Jonathan's guards instantly went up.

"What makes you thi-"

Before he could get the rest of his thought out, the door exploded inward and gas filled the room. Jonathan gagged, recognizing it as a variant of his own toxin, something he'd discovered trying to make the toxin stronger, and held his breath, searching for his shirt, cloth-anything to filter the air around him, but the gas was stronger than he had anticipated and his head swam.

He met Jack/Joker's emotionless gaze for a brief second before blackness invaded his vision and he fell to his knees before blacking out.

His last conscious though was how much he hated the Batman for not understanding.


	11. Hating Lyle Bolton

**A/N:** This is my peace offering. Two (maybe three!) updates in one day, more than ever before. I really love you guys and appreciate your efforts to keep me writing. I know I can be difficult at times, but you and rehab have helped me realize that my stories deserve updates. Please forgive and review!

And I still no ownage. :(

**Warnings:** Joker's POV (he won't let even me call him Jack), uncontrolled, massive fury, and Bolton and Batsy bashing. I also couldn't find the episode lock-up (which I don't own either) because I wanted my dear Jonny's panicked words upon his return to Arkham, but I did them from memory. Hope it is close. :) and review!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Joker**

"No! No, I promise, I wasn't going to do anything wrong, I just can't be here anymore! Please!"

Joker's blood was very close to boiling already (how _dare_ Batman use that kind of tactic against them? It went against every rule, ever. They had rules! Batman couldn't get them, even after escape, unless they were caught doing "bad things". He couldn't just waltz in using knockout gas and drag them away in chains!)

So yes, Joker was close to exploding, Jonathan's desperate pleas from the hallway made him want to leap in there and carry him away, and he was powerless to stop Jonathan's terror, which was weird, because he usually reveled in others' terror.

"Please, let me go!"

Lyle Bolton made Joker want to slaughter babies.

He just stood outside Joker's cell, watching Jonathan get dragged down the hall with a nasty smirk on his fat face, probably imagining what he could do to him now.

Joker's blood temperature rose a little higher, just watching him.

"Please, let him go."

Joker twitched a bit as the hoarse voice that had been stuck in here an entire year floated out. Harley? And she was sticking up for _Jonathan?_

"Please!"

A low, sinister laugh rumbled from Bolton's diaphragm and Joker lost it. He lashed out through the bars of the cell and managed to take a huge chunk of flesh off Bolton's bare arm with his nails before ten orderlies were on him, restraining him from the howling Bolton.

Suddenly Bolton was less than a foot from Joker's face, cheeks flushed in anger, breath foul and muscles spasming.

"Oh, you're the one they all talk about," he hissed, seizing Joker's arm and twisting it until it popped. Joker spat at him and Bolton looked infuriated. "I'll have fun with you. Welcome to Arkham."

Joker just laughed as he was dragged away to his first solitary confinement.

**Jonathan**

Ok, he was terrified. He was on the brink of trying to attack a security officer so that maybe he could get shot and die. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't, Bolton would have no mercy. Jonathan was his favorite plaything, and he didn't hold back even when Jonathan had been "good".

It was going to be torture.

But seeing Joker take a chunk out of him had been strangely satisfying, and if Jonathan didn't know better, he'd think Joker did it for _him._

Good thing he knew better. Jonathan was sick and tired of getting his hopes up.

He shot Harley a shut-up-before-you're-hurt look and turned his attention back to his personal devil, who was stalking toward him, murder written all over his face.

"Please," he just managed to whisper before Bolton got to him and shook him hard enough to dislodge his brain a bit.

"You are so very ungrateful, Crane," Bolton hissed into Jonathan's ear, hot breath making Jonathan retch quietly. "I was so nice to you, and you had to go run away. Now you get to know what pain really is."

"No, please," Jonathan tried and received a slap to his face for his efforts that echoed down the hall and caused abrupt silence to follow. It knocked the wind out of him and he gasped for air, fighting desperately to keep tears away.

"Bolton, enough," Batman's voice was sudden and sharp and Jonathan flinched as Bolton threw him to the ground and turned to the masked vigilante.

"With all due respect, sir, are you questioning my discipline?" Bolton demanded, voice silky smooth. Jonathan shuddered.

"No, I am questioning your use of violence that I could hear on my way to solitary," Batman replied, voice threatening and deadly. "I would suggest a little less force when you deal with patients, especially those smaller than you."

"He needed to be subdued-"

"That was not a request."

Batman shot an unreadable look to the cowering Jonathan before turning and making his sweeping exit. Bolton seethed and Jonathan tried to make himself invisible.

Bolton shot a glance to the cells surrounding him, then finally down to the cowering Jonathan, a sadistic smirk on his face.

"Everyone," he announced, not taking his eyes off Jonathan. "Lights out is early tonight."


	12. His Jonathan

**A/N**: There has been some confusion over this, so I'll clarify: this is nolanverse, with some aspects borrowed from BTAS.

Oh, and Inception? See it now.

**Warnings: **angst, rape, angst, hurt!jonny, maybe some ocness. oh and slash. and rape. If you don't like it, don't read. I will laugh at your flames.

I do not condone rape. I do not own Batman or Inception.

* * *

**Joker**

They'd dragged him out of solitary less than five minuets after disposing him there and returned him to a new cell, one right next to the security quarters.

Oh, goody.

Joker paced back and forth, muttering spastically.

"He's a joke, he calls that intimidating, this whole place is fucked, time to go, not without Jonathan."

He froze in his pacing, eyes glued to the cell door, body twitching as his last comment registered.

_Not without Jonathan._

Since when did anyone else matter? He could easily escape- except the annoying little voice that kept nagging- _not without Jonathan_.

Jonathan had to come.

"Please, please not again."

The voice was muffled, but Joker was far from deaf.

(He's made people deaf but he wasn't deaf.)

It was Jonathan (_not without Jonathan_, the voice reminded him) and he was on the other side of the wall. Joker tilted his head, gaze not leaving the cell door, listening intently.

"No, please."

Bolton's voice was nothing but a low mutter, but Joker recognized the idiot in it.

"No, I swear, I swear!"

Joker's body trembled as anger coursed through him. If about two seconds, his temper was going to flare and he was going to break down that wall.

_You can't break down the wall._

Don't tell me what I can and can't do.

"No!"

The last protest ended in a long, drawn-out scream, and Joker, turned with an animalistic snarl and began pounding the concrete wall with every ounce of fury that stemmed from that scream.

Jonathan was _his_

(_Not without Jonathan_)

and he would _kill_ Lyle Bolton.

The anger blinded him until he couldn't even think

_goddamnit I will kill him I will get in there and chop him to bits and he will not touch my Jonathan MY JONATHAN ever again_

The orderlies were restraining him but he kept growling wordlessly and lashing out, trying to get past the wall that separated him from Jonathan (_he's hurting him!_) not caring in the slightest about the pathetic people that didn't seem to hear what was going on.

A pinprick from his neck caused his vision to begin to darken, and he howled one last time before his legs gave out and blackness overtook him.

**Jonathan**

Everything hurt. Pain, in his chest, his legs, his back (oh, god it was the worst) his arms, radiating throughout his body, made him weak. He could barely breathe- it felt like someone was sitting on his chest, making him a throne.

All he could say was stop- _ please stop, get off, please stop, please, please, please!-_ and all he could hear was his desperate, hoarse sobs at the laughter from the man above him.

He was sure he was bleeding, sure of it, and his head swam- he couldn't fight back any longer, he was exhausted to his bones and it hurt to bad when he tried to move.

_Stop, please_.

He cried out as Bolton gave a thrust that radiated pain to his core and the man laughed again and slapped him across the face so hard his teeth rattled. He whimpered as Bolton shuddered above him and released deep within him, before dropping his numb body to the carpet below.

"You disgusting sack of shit," Bolton spat at the immobile Jonathan. "You perverted little fag. Did you like that, hmm? I bet you did. I bet you liked it so much you'd be up for another round to show just how much you liked it."

Jonathan shuddered, but said nothing, knowing from experience how much that would infuriate the head of Arkham security. Bolton seemed to take his answer for agreement.

"Oh, good," he spat down at the prone man. Jonathan swallowed dryly, curling up on himself. "Let's just-"

"Mr. Bolton."

Bolton's radio buzzed to life and he threw it a nasty look before picking it up and growling his response.

"What?"

"Newest patient is out of control."

"I just saw the 'Scarecrow' moments ago."

"No, the other, the Joker."

Bolton smirked.

"I'll be right there," he said, placing the radio in his belt before facing Jonathan again.

"Move from this spot, and I will kill you," he promised sweetly. "Would you like a playmate for our next encounter?"

Jonathan closed his eyes in disgust as Bolton pulled his pants back on, trying to ignore the unspoken threat in Bolton's last statement.

"I think our newest patient would adapt a lot better to Arkham if he came in here and had some fun don't you?"

Jonathan worked to prevent a humorless laugh from escaping him as Bolton left.

_Give him hell, Jack._


	13. Escape!

**A/N:** Wow you guys are spoiled. Two in one day, plus Saving Matt and a new story? Nice. :P

**Warnings:** slash, slash, violence.

* * *

**Jonathan**

Jonathan refused to meet the clowns eyes as he entered the room, chained an almost ridiculous amount. Contrary to what Bolton had told him, he'd moved to put his clothes back on, because damn it to hell if he was going to be naked and vulnerable when Joker walked in.

"Crane."

It was a whisper, a whisper Bolton most likely couldn't hear as he began to rearrange the chains that held Joker. Jonathan reluctantly looked into his ally's eyes and a chill instantly ran through him at the plain fury that was captured within them.

The thought cheered him up. Slightly. He was still about to be raped again.

_I fucking hate you, you fat fucking cunt._

"Who the fuck said you could move, huh?" Bolton diverted his attention from the Joker's loosened chains and aimed a kick at Jonathan that should've hurt, if it had landed.

As it turned out, it didn't, because the second Bolton's eyes left the Joker, he'd moved with all the swiftness he possessed, wrapping the chains he was in around Bolton's thick neck.

"Johnny baby, door!"

Jonathan was up, locking the door a second after the order came.

"Radio!"

Jonathan tentatively reached forward to grab it from the monster's belt, but he lashed out at him, swearing and thrashing with more fury than Jon had ever seen and he shrank away.

"Oh, shhhhh," Jack crooned, a dangerous glint in his eye as he tightened the chains. "Jonathan, now. Smash it, turn it off, make it silent. Go."

Jonathan inhaled deeply before reaching forward again, this time successful in his bid for the radio, ripping the battery out and tossing both halves on the floor.

"Good, baby," Jack breathed, his insane laugh bubbling in his throat. "Now, go sit over there and watch. You'll like this."

Jonathan obeyed, sliding to the floor on the opposite side of the office, eyes on the scene before him.

**Joker**

The fat man twisted again and Joker sighed, rolling his eyes and yanking his chains hard. He'd managed to slip them off in the commotion, so he was free- too bad this ass wasn't.

"Oh, calm down," he said, smirk crossing his lips. Excitement bubbled in his throat as he thought of the millions of ways he could hurt this pig- yet none seemed to add up to what he deserved for hurting Jonathan

_his Jonathan_

and he shifted from foot to foot, trying to decide which first.

His thoughts were oddly focused- well, more so than usual, and his tongue darted out to dampen his lips and he regarded the slowly-suffocating man before him.

"What do you think, hmm?" he asked him, tilting his head in fascination of the pig's weakened struggles. "What do you think is a suitable punishment for _your_ crimes? They tell _me_ it's here. You tell Johnny over there it's _rape_-" with that word, he savagely twisted the chain until a strangled cry came from the asshole. "But what about yours? Hmmm?"

Bolton gargled and Joker laughed.

"Oh, I forgot, you're supposed to be _silent_," he yanked the chain again. "So you can't really answer, can you?" He laughed again, catching Jonathan's eye and narrowing his when he caught the look of drowning the was written on his paling face.

"Johnny, baby," he called, voice foreign to him in its gentleness. "Stay with me, ok? Open the window, over there."

Jonathan nodded vacantly, struggling to his feet and over to the window, fighting the lock for a moment before it slid open smoothly.

"Good," Joker grinned, before shaking Bolton roughly. "Hey. Hey! We gotta go now, _pumpkin_, but I promise that I will kill you." Joker laughed wheezily. "Promise!" He gave a yank that made Bolton gag and sputter before grabbing some random, heavy object and smacking it over the man's head and tossing both to the floor.

"Come on, Johnny babe," he crowed, reaching for the other's arm and hauling both their asses out the window and into the night.


	14. Not Afraid

Chapter 14

warnings: this is written oddly. also, slash. slight oocness.

my apologies for the tardiness of this update. once again, I have failed at my promise. I honestly have no excuse other than college apps.

I am so sorry, dear Paper China. Mommy loves you.

**_i no ownies and neither do you._**

* * *

**Jonathan**

Jonathan both loved and totally despised the Joker for his insane, completely batshit escape.

He had little time to devote to choosing the more apt emotion- Joker had Jonathan's hand in a vicelike grip, practically dragging him along as his legs refused to cooperate. Behind them, the sirens screamed the news of an escape while police cars swarmed the asylum, far too late to see the pair's destination.

All Jonathan could do was gasp for breath and struggle to regain control of his traitorous body, seemingly quitting when it was least convienient.

(Jonathan hated his life, so so much.)

He jumped as a whoop of delight assaulted his ears and looked in the direction Joker's feverish gaze was, and the edge of Gotham Forest sprang into sharp relief, contrasting to the lights growing in intensity behind their tracks.

Joker gave Jonathan a sharp tug, urging him along. Jon grimaced, fighting against his useless feet.

"Come on, Jonathan!" Joker's voice was a frustrated hiss, and Jonathan could only agree mentally, sending a furious glare down as Joker pulled him along. He grabbed a huge breath and forced his body to cooperate, at least for a little while, and they sped off into the dark haven the trees created.

**Joker**

He was still going to murder Lyle Bolton. They may have escaped, he may have Jonathan's hand in his, Jonathan may be safe beside him- more or less- but that didn't change a fucking thing.

It didn't erase the image of his Jonathan

HIS JONATHAN GODDAMNIT

humiliated, used and thrown uselessly to the carpet.

It didn't erase the sounds he heard through the wall, it didn't erase the self-assured voice, it didn't erase the cocky smirk, it didn't erase what happened to Jonathan

HIS JONATHAN his mind screamed and every fiber of his being had to agree

and so, he was still going to kill Lyle Bolton.

He squeezed Jonathan's hand- his Jonathan's hand, stumbling beside him- and gave him a tug toward the deep woods and freedom.

More or less.

**Jonathan**

The woods were dark and cold but it relieved him to note that he was _not_ afraid. So what if a few memories caused nightmares he couldn't shake and tears he could not stop? So what if he'd been violated more times than he could count, been helpless and alone for the past six months? So what if he had less than a year to live?

So what?

He was _not_ afraid of the fucking woods.

So there.

"Jack…." he called out softly, the darkness pressing in on all sides, making it almost impossible to see a few feet in front of him.

"Boo."

It was barely whispered and right in his ear, and, to his credit, Jonathan did not flinch

he was not afraid of the fucking woods

though his heart stopped beating for a moment.

"Batman."

He uttered the dreaded name with as much confidence as he could muster, though it fell far short of what Scarecrow would have provided.

"Hello, Crane. I assume that's who you are?"

Jonathan gave a stiff nod, eyes frantically searching the woods for any sign of Jack.

"Yes," Jonathan finally spoke to the masked man with a mixture of apathy and anger. "But it doesn't matter, you know. Neither one of us will be going back."

"Is that so." Batman's voice was incredulous. "And why do you say that?"

"It's just a fact."

Jonathan's heart calmed as he caught glimpse of glittering green eyes behind a tree a few feet away. Jack grinned and put a finger against his scarred lips.

No fucking duh. Jonathan shifted impatiently and waited for Batman's next move.

"Where's your friend?" Batman asked in a hiss.

"He went ahead," Jonathan answered smugly.

"No, he ran off, didn't he?"

"He went ahead." Do not let him win, do not let him win.

"He ran off. You know how I know?"

"He went ahead."

"Because he's the Joker," Batman hissed right in Jonathan's ear. He flinched away and Batman laughed.

"And you know it's true," Batman finished. Jonathan refused to look at him, his gaze fixed on where Jack was-

He was gone. Jonathan's heart stopped and he looked frantically around, searching for a grin, a green eye, a hospital uniform- anything.

"Well?" Batman asked, voice at once taunting and cruel.

Jonathan swallowed thickly.

"He- he went ahead," he answered finally, though his voice wavered.

"I love your faith," Joker said, his voice a disturbing form of loving. "Remind me to reward you later."

Batman was out before Joker finished speaking, and Jonathan jumped away as his body fell to the ground with a nasty thump.

Joker caught Jonathan's arm in a tight grip.

"Next time," he breathed. "Just-ah- _trust_ I'll be there, yeah?"

Jonathan nodded- suddenly, that was all the strength he had left to do.

Joker snorted and his scarred lips briefly captured Jonathan's- he'd call it "affectionate" if it wasn't Joker doing it.

Jonathan closed his eyes against the world.


	15. the conclusions of the epic saga or we

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

hey guys.

i think this is technically not allowed but yolo.

i actually revamped and finished this fic. it's beta read and everything and i posted it on my ao3.

i'm sorry that i definitely left you hanging there. like my profile says (i think), i recently had a death in the family and it made me extremely low. it's better now and i'm writing now, but i mainly use ao3, mostly cause i'm so dang pleased i actually got an ao3.

so, thank you for putting up with the wait and thank you for reading this to begin with, and if you still like me, feel free to go read it in all it's completed, long as hell glory.

it's 10,000+ words, what the hell.

oh well.

you guys are great. let me bake you cookies or something.

for the fic, since apparently ~~~no links~~~:

url is archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 504156

for my complete profile, go to:

go to archive of our own dot org slash users slash littlesnowpea

much love- and really, i do love you all-,

littlesnowpea

so this doesn't get taken down and so that all of the above is considered an 'authors note', here is a short fanfiction poem thing about bane that kind of morphed into fangirling over tom hardy/cillian murphy

**LOOK MY ENTRY LOOK**

bane

bane u so fly

u so fly and i rlly wanna make u mine

ah ah

bane

u so hardcore

u so real dude

u r so cool and omfg tom hardy why so cute i mean srsly why so cute

u r too cute

and did anyone see cillian dear god man

you are the sasscrow

the freaking sasscrow

and i love you

ok

right

bane

bane

you're our man

if u can't do it

no 1 can

don't say this is 'riddled with grammar mistakes' ok, this was IN CHARACTER

this concludes the final chapter of paper china.


End file.
